Placeholder of Doom

No, not really, but I had to call it something, didn't I?

T1's been home sick for 3 days, and I'm about to chew my leg off in an attempt to escape. Any links that entertain, enlighten, and/or force me to send the kids out of the room will be most appreciated.

What a Bust, I'm Such a Boob

I try and try to put out a quality product, doing my best to provide the world at large with fact-based, sincere and enlightening discourse on the state of things, keeping myself abreast on current events and other really important shit. So, I'm sure you can understand my disappointment when I discovered that I only came in 5th in Google search hits for nasty nipple clamps.

I just can't fucking win.

(However, despite my utter and complete defeat, I now have a partial answer to that age old question: Are nipple clamps tax-deductible? Score!)

Some Posts Just Write Themselves.

Others must be stolen. Without further ado, I present (Insert witty title for equally Witty Regular Feature) here:


Welcome to my brain. Might be a bit feeble these days, but what can you do?

Well, I've indulged in a bit of (almost) old fashioned pencil drawing. One of those random pictures happens to be my random brother, Jason. It must be noted here that he does not drink coffee. Instead, he put his belly directly onto the floor and made like a boot-camp soldier, speed-crawling into the laundry room and behind the dryer, where I was informed later that he stayed until 4 pm.

What is it that makes me say "No more" to this relationship? He's also one of those people who talks to you with his eyes closed about 80% of the time he's talking. Plus there was a whole lot of head tilting to compensate. But unfortunately, he just wasn't playing my game. He chose a mini cheese pizza. He cleans up his own puke, thankyouverymuch. Here's a video of it, fresh at the table, boiling with spicy soybean goodness:
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I don't know when it will begin, but I know that it's gonna happen any time now. Using a splayed pair of scissors to pierce the layers of tape, the first fragrant hint of humid excrement becomes apparent. The animals can always smell it coming first. I'll be begging for good luck when it gets closer. There's even lightning and thunder and everything. Now you see why I can't sleep. Please, oh please, let it go okay.

I feel like I've shed a hundred pounds. I might just make it out alive as well. Well fuck. It's all at the bottom of the cup - look at the color! That's not the right color. It's fuzzy. How much do I have left? You can't get that shit in Detroit. I just passed out momentarily but landed safely on the carpet. Totally worth it, though.

But nobody is getting my eggplant.

You all know the drill: Much laughing, no suing. Thank you for playing.

**SJ-inspired addendum**:

(For those of you who don't know the drill, here's the scoop. I go around, visiting different blogs I frequent, and take a sentence there, a phrase there, and transmogorify it into something completely different, something really odd, and something completely not-intended-by-original-writer. Get it? Got it? Good.)

Yet Another Good Excuse For Not Writing (Arrrr.)

Avast and ahoy and shiver me timbers! It's Talk Like A Pirate Day, so to celebrate I'm off to find me some grog, a town to pillage, a ship to keelhaul ... or something like that.

Arrrrr.

Post Under Construction

I am working on a post, really really.

In the meantime, here's a picture of a dog.

Discuss.

Hey! I Posted!

So, here it is. The long awaited and highly anticipated by two people year tribute post. Since I'm not one to mince words, and I'm also sure that at least one of those two is aiming a high powered rifle at my head, let's get on with it, shall we?

I originally started this blog to express my undying gratitude and devotion to The Bastards That Canned Me. Then it morphed into a catch-all of daily life, book and movie reviews, the sordid underbelly of suburbia and soccer moms. Then, I got bored, and just started to make shit up.

Monkey was the first person to wander in, left some very nice comments, and subsequently dragged me into his own twisted and perverted corner of the blogosphere, polluting my eyes and mind on a regular basis with more depravity and overall ickiness than I thought humanly possible. How I miss that man.

Then came Our Miss Flamingo Jones, who called me a 'Cool chica' because I used the word 'craptacular' in a sentence properly. Fine girl, that. And, although I am now and will always be the Mary to her Rhoda, she was the first to publicly admit that I caused her to spray milk out of her nose, and people like that must be worshipped and stalked and have their initials cut into your flesh at least once a week.

Somewhere along the way, I found The Son of Cheese. You can imagine my disappointment to discover that he was just some guy from Colorado, and not the end result of a steamy tryst between two consenting adult slices of American cheese. Then he went ahead and made me a theme song, and all was forgiven. (If you are unable to imagine my disappointment, go ahead and read this joke again, that should fix you right up.)

Then came Pops. I think I may have told him that he was my hero, that he was my new personal god, that I have two children, please don't pull the trigger ... no, wait, this last bit was directed at MPH. The other two, definitely attributed to Pops, not so much because his beautiful prose moved me to tears, so much as his lengthy posts wore me into submission. Must ... Google ... Brad ... Pitt's ... Dick ...

Yes, there are others. Many, many others. Others who use phrases such as Darth Vader Likes Cock, which still makes me giggle, and will also increase my skeevy Google search hits. There are those who provided me with more information about anal bleaching than I ever thought necessary, which will also boost up my perverted visitor quota. Then there are those who decimate posts but still leave behind pictures that get me all verklempt and gooshy inside.

Now, lest we forget, this blog IS ALL ABOUT ME. Therefore, here's a list of a few of my favorite things by and about me.

The Best and Worst and a Little Something in Between of Everything

Screw the Shark, I'm Going In

Clearly, I Don't Know What the Hell I'm Doing.

Apparently, December was a good time to be me.

Finally, here's some things that aren't about me, or by me, but are still very funny and may cause some people to sue me.

I Got Your 15 Minutes Right Here, Pal!


I Got Yer 15 ... No, 30 Minutes Right Here, Pal!

So, that's that, then. Thank you for your support, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Well, Do Ya?

Tomorrow will be the one year anniversary of this blog. I may post something to commemorate this monumental milestone, I may not. You've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

But, I'm a Chihuahua!

As promised, here's a small breakdown on some (okay, ONE) of the interesting things going on in my life. (They ARE interesting, they ARE!)

First: we have a puppy. A smallish one that will eventually turn into a real mediumish dog, instead of one of those yappy-fur-covered irritants that have delusions of dog-ness. We got the dog because, as responsibe adults who are now also homeowners, we felt that the most logical next step was to buy a smallish creature that would shed, chew, and piss all over the new joint. It was just the right thing to do.

However, when we got the puppy, we were unaware that one of our cats was the Mary Kay Letourneau of the animal world. This little factoid was discovered by my husband, and was reported to me in a shocked little whisper, after he finished rinsing his corneas with Lysol. Those of you familiar with the mating habits of cats and the playing habits of puppies can probably piece together the scenario; it was like Wild Kingdom meets the Kama Sutra. Now, although this was just pure blog gold, having a pediophiliac, incestuous, inter-species lesbian love affair running wild all over the house can only be entertaining for a certain amount of time. Besides, we already have cable, so it was a quick trip to the vet to get Mary Kay spayed.

And, that's enough about that.